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When I was searching for a hotel in Nepal I inquired about the possibilities of going on a trek, Due to the fuel crisis and the fact that I was travelling alone, I was a little nervous about venturing far and wide in Nepal. However, I definitely wanted to do some trekking, scope the Himalayas, and see some farming communities. The hotels I spoke to said, somewhat unreassuringly, that I could set up a trek once I arrived. I wanted a teensy bit more lead time so while in Bhutan I scoped out the one and only Nepal trekking company mentioned in Lonely Planet and lo and behold Wayfarers had a compromise for me: a Kathmandu Valley Trek. And indeed, they had spaces (all the spaces really) available for the next week. (This is not commonplace as it turns out. It's my understanding that normally these treks fill up months in advance but Nepal is really suffering for lack of tourists. So just be warned, I'm not sure for how much longer you'll be able to just wing it.)
Upon arriving at the hotel, I was immediately set upon by their in-house travel agent who set out two options which seemed poorly thought out and slightly creepy (much like the rest of their hotel): no flex time for travel emergencies, not knowing the guide's name, lack of any sort of set prices, etc. As I was gently extricating myself from the negotiations, it somehow came up in conversation that I live in Massachusetts...at which point the guy at the next table jumped in. Turns out that this guy, a reporter in Georgia (the country) but with Ukraine as his beat, has a house in my neighborhood! As he sucked down the ten plates of food in front of him (I thought he was high but he said he never got good food so he always ordered a lot. I still think he was high because Georgian food is fabu and this hotel food was some of the worst I had on my whole trip) he warned me away from the hotel's travel agency. Armed with this second opinion, I braved the Thamel to visit Wayfarers.
I walked past it three times. It didn't bode well for my trekking ability.
The office was almost completely empty with four abandoned desks and in a separate room one man on the phone. This man, Rajeev, was the smoothest salesman I had encountered since the mandala shop. It must have been his deep, liquid voice...because his smile prominently lacked a tooth and his hands were adorned with rings that immediately bring to mind mafia dons and used car salesmen. In his sing-song Nepali accent he described centuries' old temples, exploring Newari towns steeped in tradition, and hiking along pine ridges with spectacular mountain and valley views from both sides. He did not, however, mention trash heaps, fog, blisters, or living in fear of amoebic dysentery...but I will!
At 8 the next morning, I was met at my hotel by Fulla the guide and a porter who's name I never caught -- a situation that became increasingly more embarrassing to rectify as this guy carried my dirty undies across hill and vale for me. I always find porter situation distressingly awkward but in this case moreso because 1. It's a three day trip. I really only need one change of clothing but 2. due to a lack of storage at the hotel, I am making this poor man carry some items that I will never use/wear, and 3. I have three books because I'm a sadist.
We set out in a van through what seemed like a never-ending Kathmandu to disembark an hour later in Panauti. (I was told that the drive was short because due to the fuel crisis, there was no traffic.) After grabbing some bananas, we walked fast through the town to a Hinfu temple situated where three rivers meet. Fulla pointed out where bodies are burned before being scattered in the river.
We sprinted on to a small village where we stopped for tea, I peed, and I was stung by a bee. All distinct incidents. Continuing on, I got my first view of rice paddies. (First time in Asia, what can I say?!) At this point of the year (November) the farmers were harvesting and threshing their crop using a foot-pedaled machine. They told me that they can do one field per hour and that the work is done communally; each family works in the others' fields. No one seems to mind overmuch that I'm standing in their field taking photos but then again my Nepali doesn't extend to "Who is that woman and what is she doing?" This nonchalance is good though because we basically spend the whole day (and the next three) cutting through people's fields and traipsing past their houses and corrals and no one blinks an eye or sets their dog on us.
Then we started heading uphill. I'm not sure if my guide always hikes this slowly but we were taking baby steps. The path wasn't steep but even at the valley altitude of 2000masl my heart rate was surprisingly high. I've lost my big Bolivian red blood cells! 
Around noon we arrived to a tiny shrine and I think uncharitably that the entire country is a bust -- especially because we stopped for all of five seconds. But I misunderstand: our destination of Namo Buddha is further on. NamoBuddha is a stupa and monastery that is important primarily to Tibetan Buddhist. (Keep in mind that Tibet is a mere 60km away!) because it is the location that the Buddha came across a tiger and her starving cubs and sacrificed himself to them. I find this particularly interesting because this is the exact same precarious situation the Buddha found himself in in Bhutan. You'd think he'd be better at avoiding hungry she-cats.
Since we arrived at lunch time all of the baby monks were either eating or playing soccer. Fulla convinced someone to let us in the temple anyway. (I'll say it again: slip-on footwear is the most appropriate for temple-hopping.) Honestly, I thought it was the most beautiful temple I had been in and it felt familiar and church-like because it had rows of benches and cushions for meditating monks. Later, we descended to a cafe which wasn't serving food yet but which gave us the opportunity to look out over the valley and watch the monks play soccer int he courtyard below. Fulla gave me bananas and boiled eggs because he evidently has ample experience with hangry American tourists. Lunch, when it was finally served, was noodle soup which I mention only because when I bit into a carrot that was so tender and sweet I made an audibly appreciative noise which I felt I had to explain, "best carrot ever."
Fortified spiritually and physically we continued to hike, ending our day with climbing down 1000 stairs to the town of Dhulikel. (No, I didn't count the stairs, I was told later how many there were. Ok, I did count the stairs but I didn't start until we had already been walking for a while so I only got up to 187). We ate a delicious buffet style dinner and retired with the promise of a spectacular sunrise over the Himalayas.
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